11. Desperate Measures
by Denise Felt
Summary: An alien crew demands vengeance for the attack on their ship.


11. Desperate Measures  
  
(A UFO Story)  
  
written by Denise Felt  
  
copyright 2001  
  
ACT I  
  
A tortured scream pierced the evening quiet. Even before the sound had finished echoing through the spacious halls, the housekeeper was out of bed and on her way to the kitchen. Hot cocoa, she thought, still half-asleep. That was what was needed.  
  
As she stirred the hot milk in the saucepan, Madeline sighed, feeling in her bones the weariness of age and fatigue. But the mistress had need of her, and Madeline's family had always served the Conovers. It hardly mattered to her that her present mistress was not a Conover by blood. This Sheila had been far more a daughter to the old master and his wife than ever their daughter by flesh had been. Madeline had felt honored to be allowed to continue to serve such a fine young woman after the deaths of the Conovers. Sheila Conover was a credit to the family name.  
  
When she'd gotten involved with that actor, Madeline had been worried. Handsome the man might be, but she knew the ways of that crowd, as did anyone who could read the tabloids. Wild, they were. All of them. So she had watched her mistress carefully for signs that he was not treating her as he ought. But he had always been unfailingly soft-spoken and polite whenever Madeline had seen him, even going so far as to compliment her on her cooking. Well, she wasn't one to be bowled over by a pretty face, as it were, but he had managed to relieve her anxieties somewhat where her mistress was concerned.  
  
The wedding had been a beautiful affair, and the garden had surely never seen such a lovely pair as the two of them made when they exchanged their vows. It had made the housekeeper cry to see it. Madeline blinked now and carefully poured the hot milk into the mug. Then she stirred in her old mistress' cocoa blend. Sheila had told her once that it alone was the reason she had lived through that horrible crash. She had wanted to have more of that wonderful cocoa.  
  
Madeline smiled as she remembered the sassy grin that had accompanied those words. How quickly time flew! The sweet young woman who had enlivened these paneled halls with her laughter was soon to be a mother. And the fancy actor had turned out to be a quiet man, a film producer with lots of responsibilities on his shoulders. Duties he took as seriously as he did being a husband; that much was obvious. And Madeline had learned a few things about him over these past months. He might be American, but he had the proper respect for servants. None of your patronizing for him. He deferred to the housekeeper in all things, which to Madeline's way of thinking just showed what a grand man he was. He didn't go in for those orgies or wild parties either, but preferred a quiet night at home with his wife. Which was as it should be.  
  
And he liked macaroons. Madeline smiled to herself as she put a few on a plate for her mistress and headed up the back stairs to the master bedroom with her tray. The mistress craved brownies more than cookies, but the master wasn't a chocolate lover. She recalled his guilty smile the night she'd caught him pilfering macaroons from the cookie jar in the kitchen. He'd looked so much like a naughty little boy that she'd had to hide a grin. But she had made certain that the jar was always full from then on.  
  
Madeline entered the bedroom with a short knock and set the tray down on the bedside table. Her mistress gave her a grateful look and drank some of the cocoa as if needing its warmth. Her hands shook badly, a sign to the housekeeper that this one had been a bad one. But then none of the nightmares could ever be called good. It was all a matter of degrees, Madeline often thought. And on a scale from one to ten, she'd have to place this one at ten, judging from the state Sheila was in. She was obviously holding herself together by a thread. The housekeeper sighed. She had been hopeful after the marriage that this sort of thing would be over with for good. And for a while, they'd been fortunate. But the master had been held up at work tonight, and Sheila had gone to bed without him. Madeline wondered if perhaps she should drop a word in his ear. Her mistress was in no condition to be dealing with such troubles now. She needed her sleep.  
  
Sheila put down the mug with a sigh and smiled at her housekeeper. "Madeline, I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
"Find someone else to bring you cocoa, I'm certain," the housekeeper said tartly as Sheila got out of the bed and put on a robe. Her movements were still shaky, and Madeline had to restrain herself from assisting her. Sheila hated being treated as an invalid.  
  
Sheila shook her head at her. "But it wouldn't be the same."  
  
Madeline permitted herself a small smile. "Oh, you'd get by, I think. You should be back in bed now," she added sharply as Sheila opened the door to the hall.  
  
Her mistress gave her a look. "Not yet, Madeline. I have to get it out of my system. I think I'll go watch a movie or something."  
  
The housekeeper followed her down the main stairs, bringing the tray with the empty mug and plate with her. "Now, what will your husband think if he comes home and finds you still up? You've got to have a care for the baby."  
  
Sheila grimaced. "I am, Madeline. Really. It will be much better for the baby if I spend the rest of the night laughing at Abbott and Costello rather than tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep. Trust me."  
  
The housekeeper sighed. "Yes, ma'am. Will you be wanting more cocoa?"  
  
Sheila smiled sweetly. "Yes, please."  
  
* * *  
  
"We're operating at half power and taking on a little water, but there are no serious injuries, sir, and we aren't having any trouble maneuvering." Captain Waterman's voice came through the static.  
  
"Good, Captain. Head for port. I'll let them know to expect you."  
  
"Yes, sir," Lew answered. "Skydiver 5 out."  
  
Straker turned to Peter Carlin wearily and said, "Let them know, won't you, Captain? I'll be in the office."  
  
"Yes, sir," Peter said, holding back his smile until the commander disappeared into his office. Then he shared a grin with Lt. Ford at radar.  
  
"He's asleep on his feet," Keith Ford told him.  
  
Peter nodded. "I know. But he's never been one to leave the tough calls for anyone else, you know."  
  
Ford nodded. "We nearly lost them this time. That hurricane was horrible. Have you noticed that the storms this year are much fiercer than ever before?"  
  
"Yes, I have noticed. But lucky for us, Commander Straker knows how to deal with a storm."  
  
Keith leaned forward and said in a confidential whisper, "Personally, I don't think there's anything he couldn't handle."  
  
"Red alert! This is a red alert." SID's mechanical voice interrupted Peter's reply and brought Straker back out of the office.  
  
"What is it, Ford?" he asked, fatigue making his voice raspy.  
  
The lieutenant was looking at the radar and frowning. "I don't know, sir. The UFO was just suddenly there."  
  
"Where?" the commander demanded sharply.  
  
Ford checked his instruments. "It's in a high orbit, sir. Over England."  
  
Straker bit back a groan. "Don't tell me..." he began and was interrupted by a voice coming over the loudspeakers.  
  
"Attention, SHADO base. This is the Solarian scout ship, Vagabond. I am Citizen S'lar, requesting landing coordinates and an audience with Commander Straker at his earliest convenience."  
  
Straker closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them again, he said briskly, "Ford, give them the coordinates of the field beyond Backlot 9. Peter," he continued, "contact Carlson and have him bring the limo to the front doors for me." He strode off to go upstairs, then thought of something else. "And Captain, wake up Alec and get him in here. There's no reason he should be missing all the fun."  
  
"Yes, sir." Peter didn't even try to hide his grin this time.  
  
* * *  
  
"What did you think of them, Peter?"  
  
Carlin gave his commander a level look. He knew it was not a casual question. "Pretty tough customers, sir. They had the look of seasoned warriors."  
  
Straker nodded. "They lost the last team they sent here, Peter. I was fairly certain that they wouldn't send just anyone to replace them."  
  
The captain shook his head. "It's hard to imagine that they're the same race as Laura Simmons. It doesn't seem to me that she was anything like that, sir."  
  
Straker sat back in his chair with a slight smile. "You'd be surprised."  
  
Peter frowned, but didn't challenge his commander's statement. "Did she know that she was Solarian, sir?"  
  
"No. Although she was aware that she was alien."  
  
"Because she could breathe underwater?"  
  
"Partly."  
  
"Like me," answered the captain softly. He glanced at his commander and said, "Am I Solarian or Rigelian, sir?"  
  
Straker said, "Rigelian, Peter. The Williams' seem to believe you are, at any rate."  
  
"I've wondered, especially since Sheila has returned. I always felt close to her for some reason, and I never could figure it out before. But it's because we share the same lineage, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Peter met his commander's eyes. "And Cedric, sir?" he asked, referring to his newborn son. "How human is he?"  
  
Straker sat forward. "That will depend on him. He's part-Maloran and part- Rigelian, Peter, with some Earthling thrown in for good measure. How do you put a label on that? Being from Earth is not what will determine his humanity. In the end, he will be the one to decide if he is human or not."  
  
The captain thought about it for a while, calling to mind all those who meant so much to him who were not strictly Earthling: his wife, their son, his family, Callista's family, even his commander. "You're right, sir," he said finally. "There are no names for that. Are labels even necessary?"  
  
"You tell me." Straker sighed and got up from behind his desk. "In reality, they're only a weak attempt to understand our differences. Sooner or later, we're going to have to adjust our thinking to start looking for our similarities instead. Captain, I'm going home. I'll leave our guests in your hands for now. They shouldn't bother you too much. I've set a time to speak with them tomorrow. Anything they need before then, let Alec handle. He has a great appreciation of Solarians."  
  
Peter didn't need the dry tone to alert him to Straker's sarcasm. Col. Freeman's demeanor throughout the entire welcoming session had been ample proof of his feelings toward Solarians. He detested them. But the captain merely said, "Yes, sir."  
  
* * *  
  
When Straker pulled up to the mansion, he frowned. There shouldn't be lights on at this hour. He hurried into the house, wondering if something was wrong. Madeline met him in the front hall and took his briefcase out of habit. Her stern elderly face told him that he was right. Something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
She glanced toward the parlor door. "It's the mistress, sir," she said in a low voice. "She had a nightmare."  
  
Straker bit back a sigh, realizing that in some convoluted way only a female would understand, the housekeeper was blaming him for the nightmare. "I see. She's still up then?"  
  
Madeline nodded. "Watching TV."  
  
He heard the worry in her tone and said, "Thank you. I'll make sure she goes back to bed. I appreciate you keeping an eye on her." He waited until she returned to the back hall before going into the parlor. "Hey," he said softly as he entered the dimly lit room.  
  
Sheila looked up from where she was snuggled under a quilt on the couch. "Hi, there." She smiled and made room for him next to her.  
  
Straker gave her a long welcoming kiss, then glanced at the TV. Humphrey Bogart was assuring the lovely Ingrid Bergman that they'd always have Paris. "Good movie?"  
  
She brushed away her tears and turned it off. "The best. How are you?"  
  
"Tired. And you?"  
  
Sheila ran a hand down his sleeve. "You look tired. Why don't we go to bed?"  
  
He gave her a look. "Madeline met me at the door."  
  
"And told you I had a nightmare," she finished for him.  
  
"Sheila, are you all right?"  
  
She blinked back fresh tears at his gentle tone and nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. Why don't you tell me about your night?"  
  
He wanted to, but he was so tired that he knew he'd say something he shouldn't. Such as, anything about the Solarians' prior trip to Earth. Because that topic would inevitably include the mention of Laura. And he was not going to touch that subject. "I'd rather not. Why don't you tell me about your nightmare?"  
  
She grimaced and got up from the couch. "I'd rather not. But I'm sure I could get back to sleep now that you're here."  
  
He put his arm around her as they left the room. "Alright." When he had her settled into bed next to him, he nuzzled her neck sleepily and said, "Is this better?"  
  
She smiled. "Much. Now if the baby would just go to sleep."  
  
He ran a hand over her belly and felt movement. "What's she doing in there?"  
  
"Somersaults."  
  
Ed chuckled and rubbed her belly in a soothing way. After a few moments, the movements quieted. "Class over for the day," he said drowsily.  
  
Sheila sighed. "Thanks."  
  
They held each other for a while, and Straker was almost asleep when she suddenly said, "Ed, are you hoping for a girl?"  
  
He murmured, "I'm hoping for a baby. I'm not particular."  
  
"Okay."  
  
His eyes opened after a few minutes, and he frowned at his wife. Something had sparked that question. "Why do you ask?"  
  
She turned to him. "Because I don't think it is."  
  
She seemed concerned about it, so he said, "You think it's a boy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He noticed that she did not meet his eyes and tried to keep himself from becoming alarmed. It could be nothing. ""Does that idea bother you, Sheila?"  
  
She met his eyes, then turned away, but not before he saw the tears. He waited her out and eventually she said softly, "I don't mind which we have, Ed. Boy, girl; it doesn't matter to me. But you always call the baby a girl, so I thought perhaps that was what you were hoping for."  
  
"Well," he said, "I'd like a little girl. One who looks just like her mother. But I'm patient. If it doesn't happen this time, there's always next time." He grinned at her, but she remained serious.  
  
"But I don't want our baby to look like me!" she said, agitated. "I want it to look like you."  
  
His heart rate jumped, but he kept his expression calm. "Surely it doesn't matter. We'll love it just the same."  
  
She frowned. "What if it's a boy, Ed? And he doesn't look like you? What if he's dark, like Callista's baby? What if none of our babies look like you?"  
  
"Hey, shush now," he said, shifting position to be able to rub her back. She was very tense. "What's bothering you, Sheila?"  
  
"I keep seeing this little boy in my head," she answered, tears streaming silently down her face. "And he's dark like me, not blonde like you. And I love him, of course. But I keep wishing he was blonde."  
  
Straker swallowed painfully. "Darling, don't. You're worrying about silly things. Do you think I would mind that boy? Or any child, no matter whether they looked like me or you? You're fretting about something that isn't even important. Let it go, Sheila. Let it go."  
  
She turned and went into his arms with a sob. "I'm sorry. I am being stupid. It's okay. I'm all right now. I'm just tired."  
  
"Then sleep now," he said, holding her close.  
  
She was silent for a long time, and he almost believed that she was asleep until she asked, "If it's a girl, what shall we name her?"  
  
Straker said, "I don't know. I've always thought that it was a good idea to name children after special people in your life."  
  
She thought about that for a while. "What if we called her Katherine Anne, after your mother and mine?"  
  
He had told her about her parents, feeling that such information would be important to her. And he found it interesting that she had chosen Mrs. Conover's name instead of her own mother's. But then, he still thought of Katherine as his real mother. "That sounds wonderful."  
  
She snuggled closer with a sigh. "If it's a boy, the name is easy," she murmured sleepily.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. We'll name him Ed, Jr."  
  
Straker jerked completely awake and took a deep breath to calm himself. "Sheila," he said after a moment, "I don't want to name our child after me. Okay?"  
  
She frowned at him. "Why not? I think it would be sweet."  
  
"Please."  
  
She saw his distress and said quietly, "Okay, Ed. Whatever you want." She laid back down on his chest and sighed. Slowly a wicked gleam came into her eyes, and she murmured, "Maybe we should call him Paul."  
  
Straker gave her a sharp smack on the bottom, and she chuckled sleepily.  
  
  
  
  
  
ACT II  
  
"Do you have a minute?"  
  
Straker looked up and gestured to a chair. "I always have a minute for a beautiful woman."  
  
She shook her head at him and sat down carefully. "You've been talking to Chris."  
  
He didn't deny it. His brother had indeed told him that his wife was feeling unattractive. "You know, I just can't understand why pregnant women consider themselves ugly. To me, there's nothing more beautiful."  
  
Virginia laughed. "You just think so because you can't do it."  
  
The commander spread his hands. "Isn't that reason enough?"  
  
She grinned, then sighed and rubbed her belly as she felt movement. "I've just come from the doctor's. And I've got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?"  
  
Straker sat forward. "Be nice to me, Virginia. I have the Solarian survey team to deal with this afternoon."  
  
"Okay. The good news first then. I'm having twins."  
  
His face lit up. "That's wonderful! Does Chris know yet?"  
  
"No. I'm meeting him for lunch later, so I'll tell him then."  
  
"Are you pleased?"  
  
Ginny blinked back tears. "Oh, yeah. It was such a disappointment to find out I would only get one pregnancy. This is like a bonus prize!"  
  
He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Will you need to return to the other dimension and register them at birth?"  
  
"Possibly. I wonder if twins are common among my people? It'll be neat to find out."  
  
"Just don't take off without telling anyone this time, okay?" he said.  
  
"I promise."  
  
Straker leaned back in his chair. "And the bad news?"  
  
Ginny grimaced. "The bad news is; I'm having twins."  
  
He met her eyes and sighed at the apology he saw there. "I see. And Dr. Shroeder wants you to up your leave date. Probably, effective immediately, if I know him."  
  
She hid a smile. "Yes, sir. Twins come early, and he doesn't want me on my feet more than necessary until they make their appearance."  
  
"Yes. Practically the only thing I know about having twins is that they come early." She looked inquiringly at him and he said, "When my son was born, I spent a lot of time at the window of the hospital nursery just staring at him. One afternoon, I met a man there whose wife had just had twins. He was completely incoherent, babbling on and on. But one thing he did make clear."  
  
She laughed. "He told you that twins came early."  
  
"Yes." He smiled at the memory for a moment, then became serious once more. "You do realize that SHADO will probably fall apart while you're on leave? It was going to be hard enough having both you and Sheila off at the same time."  
  
"I know. But I was wondering if you could do a favor for me? I will go out of my mind if I'm stuck reading paperback novels and watching soap operas for the next few months. Surely there's some work I can do at home while I'm just sitting around?"  
  
He frowned in thought. "We should be able to come up with something. I'll see what can be done."  
  
"Thank you," she said sincerely. After a few minutes fidgeting with the arms of the chair, she looked back at him. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
Her hesitation was obvious, so he said, "Please, Colonel. Go on."  
  
"Sheila and I spent our off day together last Friday. We were finishing up the nursery."  
  
He smiled slightly. "It looks great, by the way."  
  
"Thanks. I think so too. Your baby is going to love it. Anyway, while I was there, we got talking and suddenly she just broke down. I still don't know what brought it on, and the odd thing is that she didn't seem to know either. But she cried for a long time, deep racking sobs. I was really worried about her. Eventually it passed, but I was wondering if that sort of thing has been happening often? She tried to pass if off as just the normal weepiness of pregnancy, but it wasn't, Ed. It wasn't."  
  
Straker ran a hand across his eyes. "I know. It has happened once or twice that I'm aware of. Possibly more often. I just don't know. Our housekeeper mentioned it to me. She has a tendency to hover over Sheila, so I didn't place too much stock in what she told me. But obviously, I should have."  
  
"Do you know what's causing it? Does it have anything to do with what happened to her on the Thoelian planet? Shouldn't she see Dr. Jackson about it?"  
  
"No!" Straker took a deep breath and lowered his voice to its normal level. "I don't think that the doctor can be of any assistance, Virginia. We'll get through this. She only has a few more months to go. I assure you, she'll be fine once the baby is born."  
  
She thought he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her, but she didn't say so.  
  
* * *  
  
"I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?"  
  
She looked up from her desk and smirked to hide her surprise. "Well, I don't know, Commander," she drawled. "You can ask. I won't guarantee my response." He didn't come any further into the office than the doorway, and Jo nearly made a smart comment about it, but his eyes looked so serious that her heart skipped a beat in concern. What was up?  
  
He took a breath. "I'd like to invite you and Paul to dinner tonight. At our house."  
  
Jo blinked. This was interesting. He'd done nothing since his return from his honeymoon but discourage his wife's friendship with her. And now he was asking her over for dinner? "Why?" she asked bluntly.  
  
Straker said, "I don't know if you were aware of it or not, but Sheila has been feeling down lately. She's experienced a couple crying jags that have been rather severe, and she's fretting about things too much. I thought if you and Paul came for dinner, you might be able to cheer her up, make her feel more like herself again."  
  
As much as Jo detested his highhandedness both on the job and off, she never doubted for a moment that he was deeply in love with his wife. It was written all over him. And it was the one thing that redeemed him in her eyes. So she said, "Sure. We'll come. What time?"  
  
He tried not to show the relief he felt. "Dinner's at eight."  
  
* * *  
  
"You have such a beautiful garden," Gay told her with a sigh, remembering the wedding and admiring again the layout of the flowers.  
  
Sheila grinned and pulled another weed out of the ground. "Isn't it lovely? My mother laid the entire thing out years ago and kept it going until she died. I don't know how well I've done as a replacement. But I try."  
  
Her cousin came and sat on the ground next to her. "You call her mother," she said softly.  
  
Sheila glanced up. "I guess I do. I don't remember any other mother, Gay. Did I know mine well? Ed says that I was orphaned pretty young."  
  
Gay said, "You didn't seem to recall her very well, from what you told me years ago. And she and your father died so young."  
  
"Yes," Sheila said with a certain grimness. "Just another couple of mutilations to add to the list, if there even was a list that long ago. An abandoned car near a wooded area. With a toddler crying her lungs out in the back seat."  
  
"It's so sad. I wish she and Mom had been on better terms. Then maybe you wouldn't have grown up in an orphanage, but at our house. It would have been so nice to have a sister."  
  
Sheila sighed. "I don't mind how things worked out, Gay. It helped me to appreciate family a lot more. You know? I can't imagine allowing a feud to develop with a family member, like our moms did. Family is just too important."  
  
Gay smiled. "I agree."  
  
Her cousin watched her closely from the corner of her eye as she weeded. "You mean, you don't hate me sometimes?"  
  
Gay started and looked over. "Oh, Sheila! No, I don't hate you. How could I?"  
  
"It shouldn't be hard."  
  
But Gay shook her head. "I knew when you two got married that I was just kidding myself. He never came close to looking at me the way he looked at you that day."  
  
Sheila sat back on her heels and grinned. "We look like a couple of idiots on the tape. Did we look that bad in reality?"  
  
Gay laughed. "You looked wonderful! And very happy." She watched her cousin weed for a while, then asked, "You are happy?"  
  
"Very. He's not an easy man by any means, but I think he's just perfect for me. And I know I'm good for him, as well."  
  
"What do you mean?" Gay gestured to the house and gardens around them. "It all looks like a fairy tale. And so do the two of you. What could be hard about that?"  
  
Sheila laughed. "Oh, Gay! Think about it for a moment. His job requires him to be very closed mouthed most of the time, and that definitely carries over into his private life. He's worse than a clam! It makes me want to smack him on the head sometimes!"  
  
Gay grinned, realizing that she was probably right. Straker had always been a man of few words.  
  
"Anyway, he's opened up a little, but it could be years before I actually feel as though I know him well, Gay. But I knew that when I said yes. Great men are never easy to deal with." Sheila dug in the ground for a bit, then said, "How long can you stay?"  
  
Gay said, "Col. Freeman is accompanying me. Our flight leaves at noon. I've got a little while left."  
  
"It's been so nice to be able to visit. And I try not to be too jealous that you're working on Moonbase while I'm stuck here weeding the garden."  
  
Gay laughed. "Ed will have you back there after the baby's born, I'm sure. You did your best work there before. I have a question, however. Have you smacked him on the head yet?"  
  
Sheila shook her head, not bothering to comment on her cousin's erroneous faith in Ed's priorities. "Not so far. But who knows? It's early days yet."  
  
Gay sighed. "I always thought it was so romantic that his eyes held so many secrets."  
  
"It is romantic," her cousin agreed ruefully, "until you have to deal with it on a daily basis. There's nothing more annoying than a man you have to pry everything out of with a crowbar."  
  
Gay giggled. "And you still say he's perfect?"  
  
"No. Just perfect for me. You know how I love a challenge." Sheila leaned toward her to say, "I can't tell you how hard Madeline and I work to get him to eat breakfast every morning."  
  
"Breakfast?"  
  
Sheila grimaced. "I don't think he had proper eating habits before we got together. In fact, I'm fairly sure that the main ingredient in his diet was coffee. He's been eating okay since we've been married, partly because Sandy gave Madeline a few recipes to tempt him, but he rarely finishes his plate and toys with his food half the time. Callista says that it may be a Maloran incompatibility with our food, but I don't think so. His brother Chris is a healthy eater and always asks for seconds. Ginny says that it's a good thing Chris is so active, or he'd weigh a ton."  
  
Gay shook her head. It was hard to imagine the commander being a fussy eater. It made him seem so... normal. Not like a romantic hero after all. "Are no men perfect then?"  
  
Sheila heard the disillusionment in her voice and sighed. "Of course. You'll look up one day and see a guy who's so gorgeous and downright fascinating that you just can't get him out of your head. And he'll be perfect, but only perfect for you. There's no such thing as one-size-fits- all in love."  
  
* * *  
  
"You have got to be kidding!"  
  
Jo hid a grin. He might look like six feet of gorgeous hunk, but his expression was that of a sulky boy. She followed him from the bathroom into the bedroom, saying, "Paul, it's only dinner. And it's not until 8 o'clock. You'll be home from work by then." When his injured air didn't lessen, she added, "It's not your beheading."  
  
"It could be," he retorted over his shoulder as he searched in the dresser drawer. His towel slipped a bit on his hips as he dug for clean underwear.  
  
She sighed as she removed her jacket. Men were such wusses. "What's the problem?"  
  
He turned to give her a look. "The problem? Hell, Jo! I bombed the man's house!"  
  
"I thought you dealt with that already. Weren't you going to talk to him?"  
  
Paul ran a hand through his wet hair, causing the towel to loosen further. "Sure. I talked to him. He just said that it was a sound strategy."  
  
Jo gave a crack of laughter. "Oh, God! I can hear him saying it!"  
  
Her husband glared at her. "Thanks for the support, honey," he said sarcastically, hitching the towel back up on his hips.  
  
She tried and failed to keep from grinning as she stepped out of her shoes. "Look, Paul. He invited us. He would hardly do that if he was still upset about it."  
  
"I wouldn't put anything past him," he said, but without heat. "Besides, he doesn't approve of my choice of wife."  
  
She came to him and put her arms around his neck. "Too bad for him."  
  
He looked at her for a moment, then said quietly, "I offered to pay for damages."  
  
She stepped back in shock. "You did what?"  
  
He put his hands on his hips, causing the towel to slip again. "What was I supposed to do, Jo? The man owned a Monet! Who knows what other priceless things he had in that house?"  
  
"I know," she retorted sharply. "God, Paul! We could never hope to pay..."  
  
"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "I had to offer."  
  
She met his eyes and saw the unshakeable honor that lay at his core. And sighed. "Okay. Did he take you up on it?"  
  
He went to the closet and took out a suit. "No. He said that his insurance took care of everything."  
  
Jo's sigh of relief was heartfelt. "Then you're off the hook."  
  
The suit was thrown onto the end of the bed. "Yeah. Sure. Except that no insurance is going to be able to replace that Monet, Jo."  
  
She grinned as she removed her hose. "I know a good forger who might take a stab at it, if you want."  
  
He smiled crookedly, looking for socks. "Very funny."  
  
"Did he seem concerned about the painting, Paul?"  
  
"Not really. He said that Sheila had gotten him one that he liked just as well, and that after all, it was just a painting."  
  
She put her arms back around his neck and leaned in to kiss his pouty mouth. "Then let it go, baby."  
  
He met her eyes with a rueful glint in his own. "That's what he said."  
  
Her brow lifted. "He called you baby?"  
  
Paul grinned. "Quiet, you!" He ran his hands up her back and said, "What was the invitation all about, anyway?"  
  
Jo arched under his caress, saying huskily, "He invited us for Sheila. He said she's been feeling blue lately."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow as he backed her toward the bed. "So what are we? The comic relief?"  
  
She tugged at his towel, dropping it at his feet. "Sure, you know," she murmured. "Like Laurel and Hardy."  
  
He pressed her close as they landed on the bed. "Abbott and Costello," he countered as he unbuttoned her shirt.  
  
Jo ran her hands over his broad shoulders and grinned up at him. "Bob and Bing."  
  
"Martin and Lewis."  
  
She lifted her hips, so that he could pull off her skirt. "The Smothers Brothers."  
  
He kissed her navel. "Sonny and Cher."  
  
Jo murmured softly, her eyes nearly closed, "Pen and Teller."  
  
Paul had lost the thread of the conversation. "Who?"  
  
* * *  
  
She knocked on the door of the white house with a great deal of trepidation. She almost hoped that there would be no one home. But then that was cowardly, she told herself sternly. Nonetheless, her heart sank when she heard footsteps approaching. Courage, girl, she told herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
The door was opened by a woman who had once been very pretty, but bitterness and care had left their mark. "Yes?" she asked, then seemed to recognize the caller and her tone changed. "What do you want?"  
  
Sheila took a deep breath. "Mrs. Rutland, I was wondering if I might speak with you for a moment?"  
  
"What would we have to discuss?" Mary asked, her chin raised.  
  
Sheila gave her a small smile. "You'll never know if you don't let me in."  
  
The other woman's eyes snapped, but she held the door open wider. "Come on in then. I don't know how much time I can give you, though."  
  
"Thank you." Sheila entered the house on legs that wanted to wobble badly, but she managed to make it to the front parlor without disgracing herself. "I only need a moment."  
  
Mary gestured for her to be seated on a stiff cream chair, and Sheila sank onto it gratefully. Mrs. Rutland sat on the opposite couch, noticing her guest's pregnant condition. "Has he cheated on you yet?" she asked sharply.  
  
Sheila gave her a level look. "No."  
  
Mary snorted. "He will. Trust me."  
  
There were a lot of things Sheila wanted to say in response to that remark, but she bit her tongue and sought for a better opening. She noticed a tall china cabinet on the side wall and pointed to it. "May I?"  
  
Mary shrugged.  
  
Sheila stood up and went to the cabinet, admiring the delicate china place settings arranged so tastefully on the shelves. "This is beautiful," she said quietly.  
  
Straker's exwife unbent slightly at this praise. "It belonged to my mother. And to her mother before that."  
  
Sheila said, thinking of her own parents, "How wonderful it must be to have a tangible remembrance of them like this!"  
  
"As if the Conovers don't have dozens of china sets," Mary retorted waspishly.  
  
Sheila blinked and returned to her chair. "Yes, I suppose we do."  
  
"Do you have a name picked out yet?" Mary asked when she noticed her rubbing her belly.  
  
"We've discussed a few. It's an important decision." Sheila shrugged. "Where did you come up with John?"  
  
"John was my father's name," Mary answered with a raised chin. "Ed wanted him to be named after himself, but I wasn't having any of that! There has always been a John in every generation of my family, and my son was going to be that John."  
  
Sheila took a deep breath. "It means a lot to be able to carry on a tradition, doesn't it?"  
  
Mary eyed her closely, searching for any implied criticism in the remark. "You didn't come here to discuss baby names or look at my china."  
  
"No. I came here to ask you for a favor," Sheila said.  
  
"Why should I do a favor for you?"  
  
Sheila said, "I suppose you've heard about Ed's house being destroyed?"  
  
Mary nodded, her lips tight. "Wasn't it a gas leak or something?"  
  
"Yes. Nothing was left intact."  
  
His exwife stiffened. "And I suppose you think I had something to do with it?"  
  
Sheila shook her head. "Not at all. It was an accident. It's just that Ed lost everything, some of which we've had trouble replacing."  
  
Mary frowned. "Well, I don't think I can help you."  
  
"Actually, you may be the only one who can help, Mrs. Rutland," Sheila said, leaning forward. "You see, he lost John's baby picture in the blast. And that loss means more to him than anything else."  
  
Mary stood up. "Then why didn't he come himself to ask me?"  
  
Sheila met her eyes. "You know very well that Ed would never ask you for it, Mary. He wouldn't feel that he had the right."  
  
"Neither do you have the right!" she retorted bitterly.  
  
"I am quite aware of that," Sheila replied quietly. "But it's rather like that china, you know. How much easier is it to remember your mother because you have it to look at every day?"  
  
Mary stiffened and gazed at the china cabinet for a long moment. Then she turned to the lovely pregnant woman sitting on her parlor chair. Ed's new wife. Ed's new child. Her thin lips tightened. "I only have the one copy."  
  
Sheila bit back her sigh of relief. "That's fine. It won't take more than a few minutes to make a second copy from it."  
  
"How do I know you'll bring it back to me?" Mary asked suspiciously.  
  
Sheila smiled sweetly. "Why don't you come with me?"  
  
  
  
ACT III  
  
"Commodore N'var sends salutations."  
  
Straker looked at S'lar, the leader of the Solarian survey team, and nodded in acknowledgment. The briefing had lasted for several hours, but he now felt fairly confident of sliding them unobtrusively into the British population. "And how is N'var?"  
  
S'rek, the only single member of the team, grinned and answered. "He is well. His wife told me to give you her blessing also."  
  
"His wife?"  
  
S'rek's grin widened. "My sister. N'dora."  
  
Straker blinked at him across the conference table.  
  
"Commander Straker," said S'poc quietly. "The commodore wanted to apprise you of the situation with the Thoelians."  
  
The commander turned gratefully to the youngest Solarian male on the team. "Was he able to avenge the first team?" he asked.  
  
S'poc nodded solemnly. "In a way. Perhaps not as fiercely as was his desire, but he was hindered somewhat by the conditions. Since the Thoelians had abandoned their home planet for Tuatara, he felt that complete annihilation would be unjust to the natives there. So he contented himself with the destruction of seven of their fortresses."  
  
His wife interjected at this point, "N'var was certain that you would understand his reasons for choosing seven to destroy."  
  
Straker nodded. "I believe I do. There were seven members of the survey team in all. And the Thoelians were responsible for the deaths of all of them."  
  
S'rya smiled. "Yes. However, such retaliation seemed too minor for their crime." She turned to her husband to finish the tale.  
  
S'poc said, "He spoke with the leader of the resistance movement, one Timon. With the destruction of several of their bases on Tuatara, the Thoelian forces were greatly weakened. So N'var armed the natives with Solarian weapons and technology in order to even the dynamics a little more."  
  
Straker grinned. "I see. I wondered why we haven't heard very much from them lately. I owe N'var a great deal for his assistance."  
  
"Not at all, Commander," said S'lar. "He considers you an ally. And allies do not acquire debts of each other."  
  
"Thank you," the commander said softly.  
  
* * *  
  
"Honey? Why is the table set for four?" Sheila asked as she entered the study.  
  
Straker looked up from his paperwork with a slight smile. "I wanted to surprise you. We're having guests for dinner tonight."  
  
"Guests?" she said, looking a bit disgruntled.  
  
He got up and came around the desk to take her hands. "I'm sorry. I suppose I should have checked with you beforehand." He glanced at the clock. "It is too late to call them now and cancel. But don't worry. I'll make sure I talk to you first next time."  
  
Sheila snatched her hands out of his. "What are you talking about? This is your home, Ed. You can invite anyone you want for dinner. Why should you have to clear it with me?"  
  
Straker swallowed. "You just seemed a little upset about it, that's all."  
  
She lifted a brow at him. "So? I'll get over it." Her dark eyes flashed. "Damn it, Ed! I can't bring back your house! This is all I've got. If you don't feel at home here, I don't know what..."  
  
"Sheila!" He took her into his arms and held her, stroking her hair. "Please don't. You misunderstood me. I'm happy here. Really, I am. It isn't you." He leaned back to meet her eyes. "It's me. I'm sorry. I overreacted to your frown, that's all."  
  
She gazed into his eyes for a quiet moment, then said softly, "If you panic every time I frown, Ed, you'll have a heart attack within the year."  
  
He chuckled, laying his forehead against hers. "You're right. I'll work on that. Will you tell me why you frowned?"  
  
She shrugged. "I got something for you today. I wanted the chance to give it to you."  
  
Straker hugged her in relief. "Well, our guests aren't due for a few more minutes. Why don't you go get it now?"  
  
"Okay," she said and kissed him lightly before leaving the study.  
  
He laid his head against the doorjamb for a moment after she'd gone upstairs, remembering Alec's admonition to him the night of his bachelor party. He hadn't taken him seriously at the time, but now he was beginning to understand what his friend had meant. He was so conditioned to walking on eggshells in a marriage that he was having a hard time relaxing. And keeping from overreacting. Why was it so hard to believe that Sheila wouldn't treat him as Mary had? And why was he so certain that he would eventually mess things up?  
  
* * *  
  
Sheila was coming down the main staircase with a package when her husband opened the front door for their guests. She smiled as Jo and Paul came in. "Why, Ed!" she said sweetly. "It's the lunatic fringe!"  
  
Paul grinned and came up the stairs to kiss her hand. "At your service, Madame."  
  
She laughed and gave him a hug, accepting his support down the rest of the stairs. "Jo!" she said, blinking back tears as she gave her friend a hug.  
  
"Don't you start that!" Jo demanded, blinking rapidly. "You may have an excuse, since you're pregnant. But I don't. So stop it."  
  
Sheila hugged her again and said, "Let's go into the study, shall we? This is such a lovely surprise."  
  
"You mean, Ed didn't tell you we were coming?" Jo asked as they entered the study.  
  
"No. You were a complete surprise." Sheila gave her husband a cheeky grin. "Ed likes to play amateur magician on occasion."  
  
"And we're the rabbits?" Paul asked.  
  
Jo laughed, flipping her dark blonde hair back. "Shall we twitch our noses?"  
  
"I don't think that will be necessary," Straker said as he handed them both a drink.  
  
"Very nice," Jo commented as she took in the foggy Monet over the fireplace. Paul came up beside her, but made no comment.  
  
Sheila said, "I picked it up for Ed. It's a bit moodier than his old one, but he has a thing for bridges. He likes it. Don't you, dear?"  
  
He gave her a soft smile. "Very much."  
  
Jo was frowning. "I seem to remember this particular painting being in a museum in the States."  
  
Sheila nodded. "It was. But I called in a few favors. And we removed Great-grandfather Conover to the third floor gallery. I think it's much more cozy in here now."  
  
Paul leaned close. "Sheila, if you..."  
  
She stopped him with a look. "Paul Foster, not another word. Ed doesn't care about any old paintings!"  
  
Paul sipped his drink in silence. Then he spotted the package she held. "What's that, Sheila?"  
  
She smiled and went to her husband. "It's something I got for Ed today. Much more important than a Monet."  
  
Straker accepted the flat package and looked it over. "What is it?"  
  
She cocked her head, her hands on her hips. "It's the Taj Mahal, Ed. Open it."  
  
He grinned and undid the wrapping. As he gazed at the framed picture, he lost his smile and had to blink to see it properly. "Sheila," he said huskily.  
  
Her eyes were moist as well as she went to him. "Surprise!" she said softly.  
  
"Thank you," he said, pressing his lips to hers for a brief moment. "Remind me to thank you properly later."  
  
She grinned. "I will." From the circle of his arms, she glanced at Paul, saying smugly, "He wouldn't have cried over Monet."  
  
"What is it?" Paul asked.  
  
Straker blinked rapidly and handed the photograph to him. "It's my son John's baby picture."  
  
Sheila explained, "It was the only thing in the house that we had trouble replacing."  
  
Jo looked at the sweet little baby boy in the picture. "Did you get hold of the photographer?"  
  
"Yes, but they don't keep the negatives that far back," Sheila answered.  
  
"I'd already checked," Ed told her quietly.  
  
His wife grinned at him. "Then you were a step ahead of me."  
  
"I wouldn't say that," Straker said with a serious look, realizing where she must have gone to get the photo.  
  
Jo gasped, catching on at the same time. "Good God, Sheila! You've got balls of steel, girl!"  
  
"Even though I'm aware that, strictly speaking, she does not," Straker replied, "I am forced to agree with you, Jo."  
  
* * *  
  
"... So I looked right into the ranger's face and said, We were watching the ducks."  
  
Jo put her arm around her husband's shoulder and grinned at their hosts. "Needless to say, we got fined."  
  
Amid the laughter, Sheila said, "Oh, Jo! You guys are too much!"  
  
Straker lifted a brow at Paul. "That was the best reply you could come up with?"  
  
Paul shrugged and said with a grin, "Hey, I have a one track mind. It's not easy switching gears."  
  
"No more naughty stories, Paul," his wife said. "We wouldn't want to offend our hosts."  
  
Sheila gave her a look. "Nonsense, Jo. Ed and I enjoy... er, nature stories very much. We even have a few of our own, don't we, dear?"  
  
"Absolutely," Straker corroborated with a small smile. "Except that we don't get caught."  
  
Jo was startled into a giggle. She met Straker's eyes for a moment and caught a glimpse of the man who had so intrigued her years before. He was definitely deep waters, she thought as she ran a hand down Paul's arm. Paul was an easy man to read, but then that's what made him so much fun. She preferred to save the intrigue for her work.  
  
"Did you tell Sheila about the Solarians yet?" Paul asked his boss as he sat back in the lounge chair on the veranda.  
  
"No, he hasn't," Sheila answered, laying a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Who are the Solarians, Paul?"  
  
"We've dealt with them before," Straker said, stopping Paul's reply with a look. "They've sent a survey team to Earth to live and take notes over the next forty years or so. They're the ones who helped us with the radar, Sheila."  
  
"Right," Paul said. "But wait until you meet them. They look like a commando team instead of a survey team. Even the women."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Jo smiled. Her husband had talked of nothing else since he'd gotten home from work tonight. "They have interesting names," she said. "It seems that they train their entire lives for a specific job. And their names include that job designation. Since these guys are explorers, their names all have an S attached. There's S'lar, and his wife S'zana; S'poc and his wife S'rya. And finally, there's the fifth member of the team; S'rek. He's not married, but he shouldn't have any trouble finding a wife here on Earth. He's a hunk and a half."  
  
Sheila grinned. "Yeah? Tell me more."  
  
Straker reached up and smacked her hand on his shoulder. "Cut that out!" He didn't bother to mention that S'rek had requested the opportunity to work at HQ. He wasn't at all sure that his staff was ready for such a unique addition. Callista had been well received upon their return from New Malora; but then, she had never asked to actively participate in SHADO. S'rek's induction into the ranks would require both careful deliberation and judicious timing. Straker had bought himself a little time in which to come up with a plan by insisting that the Solarians allow themselves a short adjustment period to settle into Earth's culture. He could only hope that by the time they considered themselves adapted, he would know how to proceed.  
  
Sheila gave a gurgle of laughter at her husband's reprimand. "So, okay," she said. "Where will they live?"  
  
"Actually," Straker answered, "I've asked them to stay in Great Britain. It'll be easier to keep a careful eye on them that way."  
  
Sheila frowned. "Are they hostile?"  
  
"No," he said. "But their last team was killed by the Thoelians."  
  
"Oh." Sheila gave him a long look. "You think nothing of adding another pack to your back, do you?"  
  
Straker had the grace to grimace. "They're allies, Sheila. I couldn't very well tell them to get lost."  
  
She sighed. "No, I don't suppose you could."  
  
* * *  
  
"It figures that you'd do the room in rainbows," Jo said as she looked around the nursery.  
  
"Why?" her friend asked from the windowseat, touching one of the prisms hanging in the window.  
  
Jo chuckled. "Sheila, you loved rainbows. You used to have an old piece of glass that you'd found that was full of chips and cracks. You'd sit in the window for hours just staring into it and watching the colors it made."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Jo came over to her and flicked a prism. "Yeah. I guess I don't have to ask if you like Ed's mural in his office?"  
  
Sheila got up and went over to the crib. She smoothed the wood of the side rail and said, "No, I guess not. I think it's beautiful."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what?" Sheila turned and saw her friend's hands on her hips. And sighed. "Oh, it's just that the mural meant a lot to me while I was on that planet. And Ed wishes that I'd just forget it."  
  
Jo snorted. "That's stupid. Did he give you a reason?"  
  
Sheila shrugged. "It's because it helped me when I was being tortured or whatever. You know, to focus on to escape the pain."  
  
Jo was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I can see why he doesn't want to talk about it. Sheila, it can't be easy for him to think about what you went through."  
  
"I know. Especially since he blames himself for all of it."  
  
"Why would he do that?" Jo asked in bewilderment. "He didn't hand you over to them."  
  
Sheila grimaced. "Ed feels responsible for a lot of things that he has no power over. He's a man of great ingenuity and strategy. It's difficult for him to accept that there are some things he just can't control. Paul told me that I went over his head to go back to Moonbase that last time. He didn't want me to go into a dangerous situation. It was my own recklessness that got me captured, Jo. But he blames himself anyway."  
  
"He's not egotistical enough to believe that he can correct the ills of the whole world, Sheila."  
  
"No," her friend said with a sigh. "But he can't help but try, Jo. It's part of who he is. And the heritage he stems from. He has to try."  
  
The room was quiet for a while. Then Jo said, "So tell me about your visit with the ex. Was she as much of a bitch as Alec says?"  
  
"No one could be," Sheila answered. "Alec sees everything in terms of black and white, Jo. And people aren't."  
  
"Okay. I'll buy that. So how gray is she?"  
  
Sheila chuckled. "Oh, not quite charcoal, I'd say. And when she smiles, I can see why Ed fell for her."  
  
"She smiled at you?"  
  
"Once or twice. When we returned from getting the photo copied, she showed me her photo album. She's not much of a photographer, so most of the candids were poor quality. But she had the sense to get professional shots of John often enough to make up for her lack. I thought it was sad that she didn't have any photos of him close to when he died, though. The last good shot she had was when he was seven."  
  
Jo looked at her. "You make her sound almost human."  
  
Sheila shook her head. "Oh, she's unhappy. And bitter. Not someone you'd ever want to have around all the time. You know the kind of person I mean."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Jo said. "Miserable. And out to make everyone else as miserable as she is."  
  
"You've met her?" Sheila asked cheekily.  
  
Jo laughed. "Hell, I've worked with her! At least, people like her." She looked at her friend. "And you feel sorry for her."  
  
"Not really. We make our own hell, Jo. Or heaven. The choice is always ours. She's had it rough, but so have so many others. She doesn't have to be so bitter. I have no pity for her there." She paused. "It's just that... she lost a son. And I keep thinking; what if I lost my baby? How hard would it be to crawl back out of that hole? And how good a job would I do of it? You know?"  
  
Jo came to her and led her to the rocking chair to sit. Sheila had begun crying soundlessly, and it unnerved her. Sheila didn't even seem to be aware that she was weeping. "Hey," Jo told her softly. "You'd do just fine. You have a wonderful husband and great friends. We'd help you through it. You know that."  
  
"But she's so alone," she whispered. "Who do you turn to when there's no one, Jo?"  
  
"Sheila!" Jo shook her slightly, trying to break whatever spell had come over her. Sheila wasn't even looking at her, but at something far off that only she could see. "Hey, girl! You're not alone, so don't worry about it. And your baby will be fine. Come on! You're getting morbid."  
  
Sheila put her head in her hands and sobbed, rocking slowly back and forth. Jo kept her hand on her shoulder, hoping that the contact might be of some comfort. So this was what Ed had been worried about when he'd invited them to dinner. Well, he was right to be worried. Whatever Sheila was dealing with went very deep. And it made Jo wonder.  
  
* * *  
  
He held her close as she slept. She was such an incredible woman, he thought with a soft smile. She had known instantly which of his things had mattered most to him when his house was destroyed. And she had quietly gone about and made it right. He wasn't sure if he could explain to her how much more these replacements meant to him than the originals ever had. Because they had been given in love.  
  
Even John's picture. It had broken his heart to lose it, the last tangible link to his son. Oh, he had other pictures, later ones that he'd taken on their infrequent outings. Some had even survived the blast. But none had meant as much as that first one. He hadn't said anything, because there really was nothing that could be done about it. But she had found a way. His intrepid wife. She had somehow spoken to Mary and talked her into giving him another copy. It still boggled his mind to think about it. What could she possibly have said that would make his exwife be so kind to him? Sheila hadn't told him, even after he had thanked her properly for the gift. She had merely smiled and said that she had her methods.  
  
On the other subject, she had been a little more forthcoming. But not much. She had been lying on his chest when she suddenly said that she rather thought that Gay had gotten over her crush on him. She had such an impish look in her eyes when she said it that he had asked what she had done. But she had only said that it was guaranteed to ruin the romance to learn that Prince Charming had holes in his socks. He had thought that one over for a while, but had not been able to decipher very much out of it. Sheila had said no more about it, and he could only hope that she hadn't meant it literally. If Gay bought him socks, he'd be mortified.  
  
Sheila stirred in her sleep, and he soothed her by edging closer. She jerked away from him for a moment, then settled into his arms with a sigh. He kissed her hair, trying not to let his worry show. If she became aware of it or if he made too much of things, she would undoubtedly get concerned enough to talk to Jackson about the crying jags. And that had to be avoided at all costs. The doctor would slap her into a mental ward immediately. And he would lose her again. Possibly for good.  
  
No. He had to find some way to get her through this without losing her completely to the grief she was experiencing. He had hoped that her friends would be able to raise her spirits. And they had. Sheila had laughed more tonight than she had in nearly a month. But when the women had returned downstairs before the Fosters left, it had been obvious that Sheila had been crying again. And that Jo was worried about her.  
  
What more could he do? He was running out of options. And the panic that he was constantly battling was getting harder to choke down. She tossed her head on the pillow, murmuring too low to make out any words. He pulled her even closer, trying to calm her. After a few minutes, she quieted and relaxed again. But he was afraid. Terribly afraid that there would come a time when he couldn't hold her close enough to keep her with him.  
  
  
  
  
  
ACT IV  
  
"You son-of-a-bitch!"  
  
He looked up from the report he had been reading and took in the tight fists and the nearly visible fury that surrounded her angry features. Straker leaned back in his chair and said mildly, "Is that a personal opinion, or the verdict of the entire security department?"  
  
Jo bit back an unwary chuckle. She was too angry to let herself be humored. "You knew! You knew what she went through on that planet. No wonder she's been weepy. Damn it! Why haven't you told her?"  
  
He leaned forward and met her furious gaze with an arctic blast. "You do not have the clearance to have accessed that report. Do you want to be brought up on charges?"  
  
She flicked a hand. "Try it. I'm her best friend. That gives me the clearance. You're the one who came to me, asking for my help. Well, I did as you asked. And I thought I had helped. Until she fell apart in the nursery. That's when I knew something was up. God, Ed! This isn't something that's going to go away on its own. The only thing to do is to tell her everything."  
  
"Absolutely not!" His mouth thinned ominously. "Do you have any idea what that will do to her?"  
  
"It can't be any worse than what she's enduring now!"  
  
He gasped. "How can you say that? Didn't you read that report?"  
  
Jo ran a hand through her hair and paced the office. "Yes. Okay. It's bad. Really bad. But Sheila's tough, Ed. She can handle bad. What she can't handle is being kept in the dark. You have to tell her. If you don't, I will."  
  
"Don't you threaten me!"  
  
She blinked at his fierce tone. And tried a different approach. "Look. Sheila's remembering her first pregnancy, and probably all the turmoil that accompanied it. But she doesn't know why she's grieving, Ed. Without that knowledge, how can she deal with it? How can she hope to get past it?"  
  
"She's pregnant now," he answered wearily. "What will it do to her and to the baby to have to go through all that? She's only got three more months to go. Once the baby's born, maybe then we can tell her."  
  
"Are you insane? Ed, she's not going to make it another three months. She won't even make it another three weeks without some serious drugs. She's being pulled back into a past that she doesn't even remember. But she can feel it. She's feeling it even without the memories. And it's as though you're sending her into the ring with a blindfold on. How much worse is the blow, Ed, when you can't see where it's coming from?"  
  
He closed his eyes. "I can't do it. There's more than just her to think about. I have to consider what's best for the baby. What if she doesn't deal with it, Jo? What if we lose her altogether? Can the baby survive that kind of trauma?"  
  
Jo gulped, but said nonetheless, "Sheila's a lot tougher than she looks. She'll weather it."  
  
He met her eyes, his own full of desperation. "Can you guarantee it, Jo? Can you?"  
  
She shook her head sadly, realizing for the first time that despair had a color. It was as blue as Straker's eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
Col. Foster met up with Peter Carlin in the corridor of SHADO Control. "Hey! How's the new daddy today?"  
  
Peter grinned sheepishly. "Ask me in another twenty years."  
  
Paul slapped him on the back. "Feeling the load of parental responsibility crushing down on you, huh?"  
  
"You just wait until it's your turn," the captain retorted.  
  
Paul turned abruptly serious. "Man, the thought of it scares the hell out of me," he confessed.  
  
Peter nodded sagely. "I lie awake wondering which college he'll want to attend."  
  
Foster shuddered. "College, nothing! I'd just like them to have normal jobs."  
  
"You mean, you don't foresee a future for your children in SHADO?"  
  
Paul said, "No way! I want my kids to have an easier time of things than I did."  
  
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "But maybe thirty years from now SHADO will no longer be a secret organisation. Can't you imagine your kids running Moonbase or Skydiver?"  
  
Paul grinned. "Frankly, no. But I can tell you who will be commander whether my kids are here or not."  
  
"Who?" Peter asked.  
  
"Straker."  
  
"In thirty years?" Peter was skeptical.  
  
Paul said, "He'd better still be here. SHADO would fall to pieces without him."  
  
Peter smiled and shook his head, but any comment he might have made was cut short when SID announced an incoming UFO. Col. Foster had been going off duty, but he accompanied Capt. Carlin back to the control room. They arrived in time to hear Commander Straker tell Moonbase to launch the interceptors.  
  
A few minutes later, an interceptor pilot's voice was heard over the speakers. "Coming into visual range. Moonbase, the UFO is much larger than normal and oval instead of conical. Do I fire? Please advise."  
  
Straker got on the microphone. "Alec, tell the pilots to hold their fire."  
  
Col. Freeman's face appeared on the screen. "Right. Shall I have them return to base?"  
  
"Not yet. Let's see if the UFO will identify itself first. Have them remain within firing range, just in case."  
  
"Roger. Who do you think they are?" Alec asked.  
  
Before the commander could answer, the screen went blank. Then an image appeared on the screen of a large man wearing a scowl. He said, "Are you in charge of this base and the one on your moon?"  
  
Straker drew himself up. "Yes, I am. My name is Commander Straker. And you are...?"  
  
The man answered with an impatient gesture. "Partos, acting captain of the Breen warship Vexator. Does your civilization have a god?"  
  
Straker blinked. "Yes."  
  
Partos growled, "Then you'd better begin praying to him. We have our weapons fixed on your underground base and shall utterly destroy you."  
  
The commander put his hand behind his back and said calmly, "I'm afraid I don't understand, Capt. Partos. Why would you wish to destroy us?"  
  
Paul noticed the fingers Straker was displaying for them behind his back: three. If Partos' threat had made his blood run cold, that signal got it running quickly again. He pulled Peter into the corridor and said, "Did you see?"  
  
Capt. Carlin was looking pale. "Yes. Code Three. Evacuation."  
  
"Right. You take care of everyone down here. I'll alert the studio."  
  
"Paul," Peter asked quietly, "do you think there's time?"  
  
Col. Foster shook his head. "I don't know. Ever done this before?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Me either," Paul said with a fierce grin. "Let's make him proud." He hurried off toward the elevators. He ran into his wife coming out of her office and grabbed her by the arm as he passed. "Listen, Jo. We're evacuating. Where's Sheila today?"  
  
She didn't ask any stupid questions, but immediately told him, "Her band is recording in Sound Studio 4 for their new album."  
  
He nodded, releasing her arm once the elevator was heading to the surface. "Get her and take her home. And Jo, you stay with her."  
  
"Paul," she said, "where will you be?"  
  
He kept his eyes on the level indicator. "I've got to be here, Jo. At least until everyone's out."  
  
She wanted to beg him to come with her, but knew better than to say a word. She didn't take her eyes off him until the elevator stopped, trying desperately to memorize his features. Just in case.  
  
Col. Foster alerted the main switchboard, so that they could contact each building individually. He told them to explain that there was a bomb threat and found himself thankful that terrorist activities worldwide had increased to the point that such a situation would not seem unusual. Then he talked with Baker, so that studio security could help the evacuation proceed in an orderly fashion. When he got back to the main building's foyer, Sheila was there with Jo.  
  
"Paul," she said, her dark eyes beseeching him, "where's Ed?"  
  
"Sheila, you have to go. You can't be of any help to him. He's got to concentrate on other things right now. And he won't be able to do that unless he knows that you're safe. Please. Go with Jo."  
  
She looked deep into his eyes for a moment, then turned away. "All right."  
  
Jo took her arm and led her from the building with the rest of the staff. "Listen, Sheila," she said as they got into her little Jaguar. "We'll go watch some movies and have some of that wonderful cocoa that Madeline makes. Okay?"  
  
Sheila wasn't paying attention, but was staring out the back window as they left the lot. "Jo," she said agonizingly.  
  
Her friend swallowed, blinking to keep her vision clear enough to drive. "We can't think about that. They'll be all right, Sheila. Straker's a hardass. He won't let anything happen to SHADO or the studio."  
  
Sheila was silent for a moment. Then she asked softly, "But what about him, Jo? What about him?"  
  
* * *  
  
"Your people fired on our ship a while ago. Do you remember it?"  
  
Straker's heart sank as he met the Breen captain's gaze on the screen. He had known that this day would come sooner or later. "Yes. I do remember it. We were protecting our planet from possible invasion."  
  
"Invasion!" Partos interrupted furiously. "We are explorers! There was no cause for an unprovoked attack. Therefore, you shall pay for your impudence. We shall demolish your base and dwell on your planet anyway."  
  
If Straker wondered why an exploration vessel would call itself a warship, he at least knew better than to ask for an explanation from Partos. "You had your revenge, Partos, when you destroyed our base on the moon. Let that suffice. It would be better for both our races if we could discuss terms of peace."  
  
"No! It is not enough! Over half of our crew died in that attack, including our fearless captain. Our small retaliation was merely to keep you from finishing us off. It could never take the place of our revenge!"  
  
"Be reasonable, Partos," the commander said. "We lost many lives as well in that attack. Whether you meant it for revenge or not, you caused us a great deal of pain with your retaliation. It has taken us a long time to get the base up and running again. If you will consider the battle over, we can meet and find a way for your people to live here in peace."  
  
The Breen captain's jaw clenched tighter. "There will be no peace until you pay for the death of my captain. I demand vengeance! He was a great man, a warrior above all others! And you are responsible for his death. Therefore, you shall pay. You shall all pay for his death! Then we shall speak of peace."  
  
"Partos, if you fire on this base, our interceptors will destroy your vessel, and you will not be able to enjoy your vengeance." Straker's expression softened slightly. "I am sorry for the death of your captain. But would he want you to sacrifice your ship to avenge him?"  
  
"Yes!" Partos said angrily. "What glory he would gain from such a sacrifice! And what justice, knowing that we had avenged him so ferociously!"  
  
Straker looked away from that fierce countenance for a moment, meeting the eyes of Capt. Carlin standing nearby. He lifted a brow in question, and Peter answered with a small nod. SHADO was evacuated. The commander gave a small jerk of his head, indicating that he wanted the captain to leave, as well. But Peter ignored him, even going so far as to shake his head slightly in response to the order. Straker's lips thinned as he glared at Peter. Capt. Carlin withstood that gaze stoically, refusing to budge. Straker eventually turned back to the screen. "Partos, surely you must see that I cannot allow you to fire on this base. There must be a way that we can reach a truce and end this stalemate."  
  
The Breen captain sat back and contemplated Straker's face for a hard moment. "Yes," he said finally, as if coming to a decision. "There is a way to end this peaceably. We will concede the deaths of our crew in exchange for the deaths of your people on the lunar base. We will even concede the destruction to our vessel in exchange for the damage done to that base. Note that we are taking your word for it that enough damage was done to allow it to be compared to ours.  
  
"However," he continued implacably as Straker allowed himself a small sigh of relief, "we require compensation for the death of our beloved captain." He leaned forward. "You say that you are the one responsible for your base and your people. Then you shall render yourself up to our justice in exchange for our captain."  
  
Peter stepped forward instinctively, but Straker waved him back, never taking his eyes off the Breen captain's face. "Will that appease you, Partos? If I give my life for your captain's, will you meet and discuss terms of peace with my people?"  
  
Partos said, "Yes. We will consider it enough."  
  
Straker hesitated, wishing the database was complete enough to include information about the Breen race. He would have preferred some guarantee that Partos would keep his word. But what choice did he have? How could they hope to fight a race that had the long range weaponry to fire on them from space? "Very well, Partos. I will leave immediately to meet with your ship."  
  
The Breen captain smiled ferociously. "We will await your arrival." The screen went blank.  
  
Commander Straker looked at Peter Carlin. "Damn it, Peter! I told you to leave."  
  
"Not a chance, sir."  
  
"You disobeyed a direct order, Captain."  
  
Peter shrugged. "Court martial me."  
  
Straker lifted an imperious brow. "I should."  
  
"Sir," Peter said, following him down the corridor toward his studio office. "You can't do this." And he was not referring to a court martial.  
  
"Do I have a choice, Captain?" Straker asked him bluntly.  
  
"There has to be another way, sir."  
  
"Well, if you think of anything, be sure to let me know," the commander said dryly. "Listen, Peter. Alec will know what to do about SHADO. But I'm leaving it up to you to deal with the treaty negotiations with these people. Make certain that they agree to a complete cessation of hostilities. Don't let them get away with anything less. And make sure that the treaty includes a clause that allows us to police their actions on Earth. We can't have them starting trouble with the rest of the population."  
  
"Yes, sir," Peter answered as the office ascended toward the surface. "But how could we possibly sign a treaty with them if they kill you?"  
  
Straker gave a deep sigh and laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We have to, Peter. We could never survive an all-out attack from these people. We need them on our side. No matter who has to die to ensure it."  
  
The captain met that piercing blue gaze for a long moment, then dropped his eyes. "I understand, sir."  
  
Straker's office door opened, and they walked through into the empty outer office. As they emerged into the hall, the commander said quietly, "Peter, I need to ask you to do a favor for me."  
  
"Anything," Peter said instantly.  
  
"Tell my wife..." Straker faltered on the word and swallowed painfully, ruthlessly forcing all his anguish into a room in his mind and slamming the door on it. "Tell her that I love her."  
  
  
  
ACT V  
  
"What shall we watch now?" Jo asked in a determinedly cheerful voice as the credits rolled.  
  
Sheila stopped pacing the parlor rug and gestured to the video cabinet. "I don't care. Whatever you want."  
  
Jo sighed. "Sheila. This isn't going to work if you won't settle down."  
  
There were tears in her friend's eyes when she turned to her. "Jo, I'm sorry. I keep thinking about explosions. Hearing them in my mind. Seeing the studio disintegrate before my eyes. I'm so afraid."  
  
Jo came to her and brought her back to the couch. "Look, Sheila. You can't let it get to you. Ed's a survivor. He'll be fine. You'll see. You know, I've had the chance to look at his record." As she had hoped, that got Sheila's attention. "The man's practically invincible. Do you know how many times his life has been threatened? But somehow, he always gets through it. Maybe not unscathed, but at least in one piece. If I believed in such things, I'd say he's led a charmed life. He'll be okay, girl. Trust him to handle the situation."  
  
Sheila brushed the tears away from her cheeks. "I'll try."  
  
"Good girl. You know how pissed he'll be if he comes home and finds you crying your eyes out."  
  
A watery chuckle answered these words. "Yes," Sheila agreed.  
  
Jo grabbed a video off the coffee table where they'd laid a few of their favorites earlier. "Let's watch The Uninvited. There's nothing like a good ghost story to take your mind off your worries."  
  
* * *  
  
"Col. Foster! What is happening?"  
  
Paul looked around and saw one of the Solarians approaching. As the man came nearer, he saw that it was S'rek. "You shouldn't be here," the colonel said. "We're in the middle of evacuating."  
  
S'rek glanced around them at the people and vehicles leaving the studio grounds. "I noticed. Can I be of assistance?"  
  
The colonel shook his head. "No. I just wish they'd move faster. God knows how much time we've got."  
  
S'rek frowned. "Surely this is better than having them panic?"  
  
Paul sighed. "Yes. Security will get a bonus for this if... when this is all over. They're doing a great job. But it would be nice if I had some idea how much time we've got before everything blows."  
  
"Is it a bomb?"  
  
Paul shook his head. "An alien race is threatening to blow up SHADO Control."  
  
"What race?"  
  
Paul was just about to answer when he caught sight of Commander Straker and Peter coming toward them from the main building. After his first relief, he realized from the look on their grim faces that the crisis wasn't over yet. "What is it, sir?"  
  
Straker glanced at the Solarian. "You shouldn't be here, S'rek. I can't vouch for your safety at the moment."  
  
S'rek lifted his red brows. "I am here to help, Commander. And it would seem that you are in need of it. How may I assist you?"  
  
"There's nothing you can..." Straker stopped in midsentence and gave him a sharp look. "S'rek, do you happen to know of a race called the Breen?"  
  
The Solarian swore. At least, Straker assumed it was swearing. The words meant nothing to him, but the tone more than compensated for that lack. "They are the ones threatening SHADO?"  
  
"Yes. They have agreed to a ceasefire. I need to know if they will honor their word."  
  
The Solarian shook his head. "Only as long as they find it convenient, Commander. They are a very volatile race and have caused many wars throughout the sector through their uncontrollable tempers. It has always amazed me that their race ever made it into space in the first place."  
  
Straker sighed. It was what he'd been afraid of. Partos had not seemed to him to be a calm enough man to be reliable. "If we get them to sign a treaty, will they honor it then?"  
  
"No. Their word is subject always to their whim, Commander. No one will sign a treaty with the Breen. They simply cannot be trusted."  
  
Peter spoke up. "Then you don't have to go, sir," he told the commander. "If they won't keep their word, then there can't be a treaty. We'll have to come up with another way to end the stalemate."  
  
Straker looked at him. "There is no other way, Captain. And I don't trust their patience enough to try it further by dragging negotiations out any longer. It's imperative that SHADO have the threat removed as soon as possible. They can't be allowed to hinder our operations."  
  
"But, sir..."  
  
S'rek spoke up. "What did you agree to, Commander?"  
  
Straker said, "My life in exchange for the life of their captain, who was killed in the first attack several months ago."  
  
Foster gasped, but S'rek merely nodded. "An even exchange. It would work, too, if you weren't dealing with the Breen."  
  
"I don't have a choice, S'rek."  
  
"Perhaps not," agreed the Solarian. "How were you planning to turn yourself over to them?"  
  
Straker met the warrior's hazel eyes and felt a glimmer of hope stir inside him. "I'll take a lunar module up to dock with their ship in space."  
  
"Allow me to help." S'rek grinned fiercely at the commander. "My ship is faster."  
  
* * *  
  
Partos stood on the bridge of his ship and smiled at his men as they worked. If they seemed to find his smile more unnerving than his frowns, he did not let it concern him. He was feeling gracious. That fool of a commander would be in their hands soon, and then he would have his revenge. Once he called off his interceptors, Partos would bind him and make him watch as they bombed that underground base, as well as the one on their moon. Then he would throw him to his men and let them abuse him as they would. Partos' smile widened at the thought. Perhaps he would even watch.  
  
If there was anything left of him after that, Partos would finish him off himself. It had been a long time since he had eviscerated anyone. Too long, in fact. Partos nodded to himself in satisfaction. Then his captain would finally be avenged and could go on to conquer death as he had conquered life.  
  
Yes, Partos was feeling very gracious.  
  
"Captain!"  
  
Partos turned to his helmsman. "What is it?"  
  
"We are receiving a transmission."  
  
Partos frowned. "From where? The underground base?"  
  
"No, my liege. It is from a nearby vessel."  
  
"Idiot!" Partos pushed him away from the console and checked himself. "There are no vessels nearby but those cursed interceptors." He checked the instruments again and could find no other answer, so he strode to his command chair in disgust. "Play the transmission!"  
  
"Captain Partos," came a strong voice over the speaker system. "I have brought you Commander Straker as requested."  
  
Partos darted a look at his engineer, who quickly shook his head in answer to his silent question. There were no ships out there. "Come," Partos said, impatient with these games. "Show yourself!"  
  
Suddenly a ship appeared directly in front of them in space as if from out of a mist. It was beautifully crafted and hung there like an enormous bird of prey. Partos drew a hissing breath between his teeth and paled slightly. Then the ship disappeared from the screen to be replaced by the image of a Solarian in full battle armor. He grinned at Partos. "Well, now. That's better, don't you think?"  
  
Partos spat out, "Stay out of this, Solarian! This is not your war!"  
  
S'rek gestured to where Commander Straker stood near his side onboard the Solarian ship. "So suspicious, Captain! I have merely brought your hostage to you. Nothing more."  
  
The Breen captain knew better than to trust a Solarian's smile. "Then send him to us," he demanded. There was no way he would allow that ship to dock with his. The Solarians had too many reasons to wish for retaliation where the Breen were concerned.  
  
S'rek's grin widened and he leaned a little closer to the screen. "Come and get him."  
  
Partos realized that he was cringing in his chair and abruptly stood up and approached the viewscreen. "Commander Straker! You made a pact with us. Will you let this son of a warthog destroy the goodwill between us?"  
  
"I don't understand," Straker answered quietly. "S'rek is a friend. He is only assisting me in reaching your ship. There is no ill will intended, Partos."  
  
"Friend?" Partos scowled at the Solarian. "This planet is not in the Solarian Alliance!"  
  
"It is now," smirked S'rek. Then he became abruptly serious. "Approach this planet at your peril, Captain. You would not wish to encounter the brunt of Solaria's anger. Would you?"  
  
Partos furiously signaled to his helmsman to cut off communications.  
  
* * *  
  
"Will it work?" Straker asked.  
  
S'rek shrugged, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen. "We shall see." After a moment he seemed to sigh. "They are leaving," he told the commander as the other ship left orbit. "I hope that you will excuse the fabrication, Commander. But it may yet be true someday that Earth is part of the Alliance."  
  
Straker gave him a straight look. "I think we would be wise to look into it at the earliest opportunity, S'rek."  
  
The Solarian grinned.  
  
* * *  
  
Straker drove home swiftly, unaware of speed limits or other such minor issues, but fully focused on his need to see his wife again. He had been so certain that he never would.  
  
The studio had been a virtual ghost town when he had returned, and he had found the quiet disconcerting. After Paul had called the night crews in, letting them know that the bomb threat was over, he'd sent him home to get some sleep. It had been a long day for all of them.  
  
Peter had taken care of returning SHADO personnel to their stations. Straker had walked through the corridors of HQ congratulating them on their efficient evacuation, glad to see that the crisis had not disturbed morale to any great degree. And as much as he might have wanted to keep some of the details of the confrontation with the Breen a classified secret, he knew that it would not only be unwise to do so, but would delay his efforts to help SHADO adjust to the changes necessary for its growth as an installation. S'rek had played a major role in their deliverance from the hands of the Breen and deserved a position among SHADO's staff for that act alone. To deny him that simply because Straker didn't want the staff to be aware of his own part in the adventure would be unproductive. Besides, if he could focus their attention on the heroic deeds of the Solarian, he might be able to escape being stuck in the limelight himself.  
  
But he wasn't looking forward to explaining those details to his wife.  
  
* * *  
  
"I love it when the good guys win," Jo said with a sigh as the credits rolled at the end of the movie.  
  
Sheila grinned, rubbing her arms to get rid of the goosebumps. "Although in this case, it's the good ghost who wins."  
  
"You know," Jo said, hitting the rewind button on the remote. "I have a hard time believing the bad ghost left so easily at the end after being so determined to cause trouble."  
  
"It was rather pat, wasn't it? If I was Stella, I'd refuse to live in the house once she married Rick. I mean, what if the bad ghost was still there? Can you imagine always having to worry about that cliff so close by?"  
  
"Sheila!" Jo exclaimed. "You're not supposed to think about those things. That's why the story ends there, instead of later."  
  
"Maybe," Sheila conceded. "But..." The sound of a car driving up to the front door caused her to stop what she'd planned on saying. In a flash, she was off the couch and out of the parlor.  
  
Jo blinked, then let out a deep sigh before following her friend out into the front hall. She felt wrung out from trying to keep both Sheila and herself from fretting. But maybe the crisis was over now. She looked out the heavy front door that Sheila had flung open and stopped in her tracks. Well. That was interesting. Commander Straker was greeting his wife in a manner very far removed from his usual unflappable demeanor. In fact, Jo had never seen him so... passionate. Amazing. Perhaps Sheila hadn't been exaggerating after all when she'd said that their sex life was so incredible. He was such a stuffed shirt that Jo had found it rather hard to believe. Until now.  
  
She edged past them in the doorway and headed toward her car, suddenly eager to get home and see her own husband. Sheila's voice stopped her as she went to open the car door.  
  
"Jo!"  
  
Jo turned back to find them still firmly locked in a close embrace, although they were no longer kissing. "Yeah?"  
  
Sheila grinned. "Thanks!"  
  
Jo laughed. "Nothing to it!" she lied cheerfully.  
  
"Jo," said Straker quietly, his serious eyes meeting hers across the courtyard, "thank you."  
  
She nodded, her voice deserting her all of a sudden. She got in her car and drove off, looking back once in the rearview mirror before she got very far down the drive. But they'd already gone inside.  
  
* * *  
  
Straker sat back in his chair and looked at the picture of his son sitting on the study desk. It was late, and the house was quiet all around him. John's baby face smiled sweetly back at him from the portrait. He thought suddenly that he'd been given a second chance at so many things in the last year. Life, love, marriage. Even being a father. And he hadn't felt as though he deserved any of it. Consequently, he'd spent most of his time in a waiting kind of fear, certain that he wouldn't be able to keep any of those precious things.  
  
But today, when he had faced the prospect of losing everything he held dear, he had suddenly realized that it didn't matter whether he deserved them. He wanted them. With a fierceness he had never experienced before.  
  
So he smiled at his son and made him a promise to make the most of this chance; that he'd keep his priorities in their proper place. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get it right this time. John smiled back, encouraging him to hope for the future.  
  
Suddenly Straker frowned. Sheila was the one who had made it possible for him to have his son back by getting this picture for him. And it hadn't been easy. She had braved great odds to do so. But she had no pictures of her son. She didn't even have memories.  
  
For the first time, he saw the situation through her eyes rather than through the eyes of his fear. And he knew what he had to do. He got up from the desk. Sheila had been asleep for hours, but he knew that she occasionally woke in the night. Perhaps he would find her awake. As he left the study, he saw her coming down the front stairway. "Sheila!"  
  
She sent him a soft smile. "Hey, you. I woke up alone. And since I refuse to let you out of my sight for a while, I came looking for you."  
  
He smiled and took her hand, helping her down the rest of the stairs and into the study. "I was coming up to see if you were awake. We need to talk."  
  
She sat near him on the couch and gave him a lazy grin. "Most wives consider it bad news when their husbands say that to them. But not me. Anytime you want to talk, I definitely want to know what you have to say."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Sure, Ed. It's the only time I can put down my crowbar."  
  
He lifted a brow at her, but didn't ask her what she meant. Besides, he thought he might just know already. "Sheila, I need to tell you why you've been having so much trouble with mood swings lately."  
  
Her grin faded, and she squeezed his hand. "Okay."  
  
"We know what happened to you on the Thoelian planet."  
  
"Oh? How?"  
  
He sighed. "When we brought you in for the debriefing, you remembered everything."  
  
She gasped. "Ed! But you told me...!"  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. Sheila, what they put you through was... horrible. And it changed you. A lot. I was afraid of what would happen to you if we let you keep those memories."  
  
"So you wiped them back out."  
  
He glanced quickly at her, hearing the anger in her voice. "Yes."  
  
She stared at him in silence for a long time. It took everything in him not to look away from her piercing gaze. Finally she said, "Why have you changed your mind?"  
  
He sighed again. "Because you need to know. Not just because this is tearing you apart, although that is a valid reason in itself. But because... You braved your fear to give my son back to me. I can do no less for you."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The little boy you keep seeing in your mind? Sheila, he's your son."  
  
She paled in shock. "Ed!" Unable to sit still, she jumped up and paced over to the fireplace and stared at the embers. After a while, she asked softly, "How? Who?"  
  
Straker met her dark eyes across the room and swallowed. God, let her be able to handle this! "He was the Thoelian leader. His name was Ming."  
  
Sheila closed her eyes, her arms going around herself in a protective gesture. "The man in my nightmares," she whispered.  
  
"Yes," he answered, although it hadn't been a question.  
  
"And I... I bore his son?"  
  
Straker nodded, his throat closing at the look of agony in her eyes. "Sheila..."  
  
But she was shaking her head. "No! No, Ed! I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have!" He came over to her and tried to take her into his arms, but she rounded on him in tears, her hands pushing against his chest. "I wouldn't have let him... I would have fought him! I wouldn't have just..."  
  
"Sheila!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You did fight him! You fought him with everything in you."  
  
She searched his face through her tears. "Then he...?"  
  
"Raped you. Yes."  
  
She went limp against him and closed her eyes. "Oh, God! I thought you meant that I... that I let him use me that way." She shuddered in his arms, and he led her back to the couch, sitting with his arm close around her. After a moment, she pressed a soft kiss against the side of his neck. "I knew you were my only lover. I knew it."  
  
His heart tore in two. "Sheila..."  
  
She asked, "What happened?"  
  
He took a breath. "You killed him and escaped."  
  
Her smile bloomed as she met his eyes. "Yeah? Good for me."  
  
He was so relieved that he kissed her.  
  
"Ed? What about the baby? You said it was the little boy I've been thinking about."  
  
"Yes. You stayed on the planet and raised him there. Apparently, he helped you fight against the Thoelians."  
  
"But why didn't I come home?" she asked in bewilderment. Then she saw his expression and realized. "Oh, God! I could never have faced you!"  
  
He drew her closer and kissed her hair. "Sheila, I wish you had come home. I wish I could have met him."  
  
She hugged him tightly. "Why didn't I bring him back with me when I returned, Ed?"  
  
He sighed deeply. "He died in a raid on the Thoelian fortress. He was about five at the time."  
  
Sheila closed her eyes and remained silent for several minutes. Then she pulled back and looked at him, asking softly, "What was his name?"  
  
"You named him Eddie."  
  
"Oh, Ed!" she said brokenly.  
  
Straker swallowed. "I didn't mind, Sheila. I'm glad that you did."  
  
Her eyes were swimming in fresh tears. "No wonder you didn't want me to name our baby Ed, Jr."  
  
He tightened his hold on her, stroking her hair and blinking rapidly. "You told him about me, Sheila. He wanted to meet me too."  
  
"Ed, you really don't mind?" she asked huskily.  
  
He frowned, not following her. "What do you mean?"  
  
"That we won't be able to name our baby Ed, Jr. now?"  
  
"No, Sheila. Of course not. There's no need. He was Ed, Jr."  
  
Her breath caught. "Oh, Ed!"  
  
"Sheila?"  
  
She brushed at the tears streaming down her face. "I love you."  
  
He hugged her, unable to figure out what had made her say that. But he was glad just the same. "I love you too." They held each other for a long time. Finally he asked quietly, "Sheila? I was wondering... I know that Eddie died on that planet and is buried there. But I was thinking that perhaps we could put up a headstone for him here, something tangible that we could remember him by."  
  
Sheila opened her eyes, but did not move from her position against his chest. She could hear the strong beat of his heart and wondered if it were possible to love him any more than she did at that moment. "I think it's a wonderful idea, Ed."  
  
He gave a quiet sigh. "There's room in the family cemetery."  
  
"In Boston?"  
  
"Yes." Then he frowned. "That won't be too far away, will it?"  
  
"No, Ed. It will be perfect."  
  
"Good."  
  
She broke the silence in the room a few minutes later, saying, "Will I get my memories back?"  
  
He closed his eyes on a sigh. "Yes. They're too important to keep from you any longer. But not while you're pregnant. It would just be too traumatic, Sheila. Once the baby's born, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Her legs didn't shake so badly this time when she knocked on the door of the white house. But she still had to swallow hard when she heard footsteps approaching.  
  
Mary opened the door and frowned. "What now?"  
  
Sheila showed her the large envelope she carried. "I've brought you a gift."  
  
Straker's exwife frowned deeper. "What for?" she asked ungraciously.  
  
"As a thank you."  
  
Mary was still suspicious, but she opened the door and led her uninvited guest into the parlor. She automatically sat in her favorite spot on the couch. And Sheila sat once more on the stiff chair across from her. Mary was vaguely curious. "Does Ed know you're here?"  
  
Sheila smiled. "No. But then, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Mrs. Rutland raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Sheila handed her the envelope. "I thought you might like these."  
  
Mary opened the flap. "What are they?"  
  
Sheila merely smiled at her.  
  
Straker's exwife pulled the contents out of the large envelope and nearly dropped them when she saw what they were. "Oh, my God!" she whispered, running a shaking hand across the top photo. John's boyish face grinned up at her. She looked dazedly up at Sheila. "Where did you...?"  
  
Sheila said, "Ed had them at his office. They were taken that last day he and John had together at the studio. I noticed that you didn't have any later photos of him, so I thought you might like some of those copies."  
  
Mary nodded absently, going slowly through the stack of photographs. Her eyes were moist when she looked back at Sheila. Moist, and confused. "Why would you do this for me?" she asked.  
  
"A mother should have every memory she can get of her child," Sheila answered softly.  
  
Straker's exwife blinked at her for a moment, then said, "Thank you." She hugged the photos of her son to her and said distractedly, "I suppose I should offer you some tea or something?"  
  
Sheila stood. "That's not necessary, Mary. I can't stay."  
  
Mrs. Rutland walked her back to the front door, still clutching tightly to the photographs. "Tell Ed..." She swallowed painfully, undone by the unexpected kindness. "Tell him thank you."  
  
Sheila nodded. "I will." 


End file.
